


A Kiss or Touch Could Feel Like Kryptonite

by No_Thoughts_Just_Thots



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Crowley is a mess, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Only a bit I promise, They go to dinner of course, Touch-Starved, angels dining at the Ritz, ineffable husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24873850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/No_Thoughts_Just_Thots/pseuds/No_Thoughts_Just_Thots
Summary: After the events of the past few weeks, he couldn’t deny that things had changed for the better; for the world of course, but also between him and Crowley. They were… something now, something different than what they’d been before. Crowley had hated all the words he’d come up with to try and describe them so far (lover was far too racy, boyfriend didn’t even begin to cover it and husband was simply factually incorrect, by human standards anyway), but they both knew that they were closer. That what they shared was deeper, partly because of all they had done and partly because it was only them now.Aziraphale loves his demon, but hates to be touched. Crowley is determined to find out why and set everything right.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 103





	A Kiss or Touch Could Feel Like Kryptonite

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is one of the fastest fics I've ever written! 'Twas a Father's Day Gift for a friend of mine, and I had so much fun writing it! This was one of the only fics I've written that wasn't beta'd by heywoodjablowme, so any mistakes are mine. Anyways, enjoy some fluff! Title is from the song I'm Gonna Love Me Again.  
> -Jo

It wasn’t that Aziraphale and Crowley had never touched before. They had, obviously, it would’ve been ridiculous not to. You can’t spend 6000 years with someone and never accidentally brush hands. But that was different somehow. It wasn’t the same as doing it on purpose.

It was silly, Aziraphale thought to himself. They had known each other for 6000 years. They had shared all of their secrets, fought side by side and even helped avert the Apocalypse by the sheer power of their love for one another. And yet, Aziraphale still couldn’t bring himself to touch him. Not intentionally anyway.

____

____

After the events of the past few weeks, he couldn’t deny that things had changed for the better; for the world of course, but also between him and Crowley. They were… _something _now, something different than what they’d been before. Crowley had hated all the words he’d come up with to try and describe them so far (lover was far too racy, and boyfriend didn’t even begin to cover it, and husband was simply factually incorrect, by human standards anyway), but they both knew that they were closer. That what they shared was deeper, partly because of all they had done and partly because it was only _them _now.____

_____ _

_____ _

He knew he was lucky, he told Crowley as much every chance he got. Not everyone got a gorgeous, witty, fast-driving, smooth-talking life partner like he did. But he still couldn’t bring himself to even lay a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, much less kiss or even embrace him. Crowley would probably hate it anyway. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Crowley was from Hell which, like it or not, had more or less desensitized him to any form of touching short of a fight. Demons were used to being packed together, forced to brush shoulders and grab arms and whatever else might be necessary for pushing ahead in the long, dreary hallways. Demons had a strange sort of comradery that seemed to have stemmed from the shared experience of falling, and as such it seemed they were always close, whether they truly needed to be or not.

Crowley had of course picked up on this sort of thing, even if he didn’t live there as much as all the other demons did, and thus seemed to take physical affection a shade more lightly than the angel. Since they had decided that they were perhaps more that friends, he was more than ever inclined to stretching out on their sofa, his feet resting on Aziraphale’s legs, or absentmindedly tapping his fingers on top of the angels hand, or once even landing a small kiss on top of his head as he left the room for another bottle of wine (Aziraphale had nearly discorporated on the spot).

It wasn’t like he didn’t want Crowley to touch him, very much the opposite really, it was just that in Heaven, physical contact almost never came with positive connotations. In Heaven touching was aggressive, domineering, a show of power or a passive aggressive reminder to know your place. Gabriel was the worst of all of them, with his too harsh grips on Aziraphale’s shoulder or his overly enthusiastic punches in the arm, the barely concealed aggression apparent behind his violet eyes. Aziraphale couldn’t stand when he would appear in the bookshop, silently and unannounced, and clap his hand down on his shoulder, his bruising grip usually making him startle embarrassingly. Aziraphale knew that amongst angels, the only kind of contact made was used as either a warning or a cold reminder of your own weakness, nothing less.

He had gotten good at pretending around his demon though, because he couldn’t ruin this, not now. He smiled as Crowley threw an arm languidly around his shoulders on the sofa and hoped he didn’t notice how much he’d tensed up, or quickly thought of a pressing task to attend to when Crowley would lean against him as they sat at the kitchen counter. It was trying and it frayed his nerves, but he wasn’t going to risk hurting the demons feelings, not for anything. So he lied through his teeth and tried his best to be enthusiastic about Crowley touching him affectionately, because they had waited 6000 years to be able to do this and he wasn’t going to let heaven ruin it for them.

The day was freezing as Aziraphale bustled around the kitchen, busying himself making tea and leafing through different cookbooks, trying to find something he fancied baking. It was a new hobby he’d picked up and he wasn’t very good at it, but if nothing else it made the entire flat and the bookshop beneath smell lovely.

“Cherry turnovers….” he muttered to himself, ignoring the whistling of the kettle momentarily. It was dreary out in the street, but there was a fire roaring in the fireplace, bathing the entire kitchen and living room in a warm, cheerful glow. He smiled to himself as he heard the bell ring downstairs, signifying the arrival of his demon.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley called. “You up here?”

“In the kitchen dear!” he called back, setting up one of the books on a stand as he found a blueberry scones recipe he felt he could commit to.

“Sorry I’m late.” Cowley began as he finally emerged at the top of the stairs. “You think you pull off one of the best bloody demonic miracles of the time and it only gives you traffic on the way home.”

“Not to worry, I’d actually quite lost track of the time.” the angel replied.

“No such luck for me on the M25 I’m afraid.” Crowley flounced down dramatically onto his back on the sofa, flinging a leg over the armrest as he glasses slid slightly down his nose. Aziraphale chuckled slightly, beginning to gather ingredients, the sounds of his clanking about the kitchen familiar to the demon by now.

“You baking again?” he asked, turning his head from where it rested atop his arm.

“Yes!” Aziraphale beamed as he rooted through the cabinet for measuring cups. “New recipe actually.”

“Whatsit this time?” 

“Royal blueberry scones!” 

“Royal?” Crowley cocked an eyebrow.

“Well I suppose they’re royal in the sense that they’re… elegant.” Aziraphale supplied. “Not exactly in the Windsor sense.”

“Ah, I follow.” Crowley let a small smile cross his face, closing his eyes under his shades.

Aziraphale continued moving around, measuring ingredients and pouring them into a big bowl, both of them falling into the comfortable silence they were used to. The angel hummed some sort of classical piece under his breath, smiling softly as he looked at Crowley splayed out on the couch.

“Hey angel?” the demon asked after a moment. 

“Yes dear boy?”

“Can I tempt you to a bit of dinner tonight?”

“Always.” Aziraphale replied easily. “Any occasion?”

Crowley mumbled something noncommittal under his breath, scrubbing a hand across his face. Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, stupid anyway.” Crowley sat up and gave a smile. Aziraphale crossed his arms.

“Well now you’ve made me curious.”

“It’s nothing angel, you know I’m not an ‘occasions’ person-“

“If you won’t tell me I’m just going to keep guessing.” Aziraphale teased. “3000’th traffic ticket? Beelzebub’s birthday?”

“Fine.” Crowley rolled his eyes, though the corners of his mouth quirking up betrayed him. “It’s just, it’s been a month, since… well y’know.”

“Oh my goodness.” Aziraphale gasped. “It’s been a month since we… and I completely forgot! Crowley I’m so sorry.”

“’S fine, really, I mean it’s not as if it was terribly fun.” Crowley chuckled.

“I know, but you and I and those children effectively saved the world, and I completely-“

“Angel.” Crowley stood up and grabbed his hand, and Aziraphale tensed under the feeling. “It’s fine, promise.” 

“You’ll get us a reservation then?” Aziraphale asked, his hand moving slowly away from the demon’s. 

“’Course I will.” Crowley let another smile cross his face, before giving the angel’s hand a squeeze. “Give them a call, shall I?”

“Oh… yes, quite right.” Aziraphale felt like his nerves were on fire where Crowley was touching him, his body tense as he willed himself to calm down, this was Crowley for Heaven’s sake. Crowley let his smile drop for a moment, concern creeping across his features. Then, blessedly, he let go.

“Right then. Back in a minute angel.”

Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief despite himself as Crowley headed back down the stairs, taking a moment to straighten his jacket before noticing that his hands were shaking. He hoped Crowley hadn’t noticed either. He took a few deep breaths, reminding himself that everything was fine, and that Crowley was not Gabriel and that he would simply pay more attention to Crowley’s movements. He could hear the demon now, downstairs on the phone with someone or other from the restaurant. He loved him, he reminded himself, it wasn’t the demons fault that he couldn’t separate earth from Heaven.

Trying to shake off the persistent feeling of anxiety thrumming through his veins, he returned to the kitchen, doing his best to read through the recipe. He measured more ingredients and hummed softly under his breath, finally feeing the tension start to leave his body after a few moments. Suddenly feeling as though it was strangely quiet, he snapped his fingers, smiling as record player scratched to life, jazz music floating through the kitchen. 

He tapped along as he read through the instructions, his foot bouncing on the floor. He miracled the player even louder, the music now vibrating through the small flat. It was so loud that he could barely hear Crowley coming back up the stairs, sounding very pleased with himself.

“Angel!” Aziraphale heard him call from the staircase. “I got us in tonight!”

The angel had just opened his mouth to say something back when suddenly he felt a pair of hands close around his waist, a head resting on his shoulder, and he whipped around, shoving blindly at the presence. He could feel his breathing pick up again, his mind betraying him as it conjured up images of rough hands on his shoulders and around his chest, pulling him backwards, away from Crowley, snarling voices in his ear… but this wasn’t the park it was his flat, and there were no demons here and he’d just hit the person he’d been trying to protect no no no, he couldn’t have…

“Don’t!” he cried, throwing his hands up in front of himself. He was back up against the counter, cowering almost, his breathing shallow and harsh as he looked at Crowley, who looked just as spooked as he was. Suddenly, he snapped back into himself, realizing what he’d done.

“Crowley…” his voice was almost a whisper. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I-“

“Are you alright?” Crowley cut him off. Somehow Aziraphale had knocked his glasses off when he’d pushed him, and now he could see just how wide the demons eyes were, his hands also placed slightly in front of himself in a placating gesture.

“Yes, yes, it’s nothing to worry about, I just got… a bit carried away I’m afraid.” he snapped his hands back down to his sides. “Are you?”

“I’m sorry angel.”

Aziraphale was shaking even worse now, the sensation accompanied by a pang in his chest as he saw the look on Crowley’s face go from confused to hurt. He could feel himself spiraling even further, still unable to shake the feeling of phantom hands grabbing at him. Even just Crowley’s presence in the room felt overwhelming, the feeling of his sorrowful eyes on him making him want to retreat into himself even more.

“Crowley?” he asked, his voice brittle and shaky. The demon didn’t move. “I think I should go.”

“What?”

“I’m so sorry my love, this isn’t your fault, I just think that perhaps we should be apart for the moment. I’m feeling… a bit overwhelmed.”

Aziraphale braced himself for Crowley to look betrayed or at the very least hurt. Instead, he simply looked even more worried.

“I’ll go.” he said after a moment. “You should stay here, you’ve things to do.” he moved his hands down slowly, as if he was afraid he’d startle the angel again.

“It’s really no trouble-“ Aziraphale started again, but stopped as Crowley took a step towards him. He tensed, bracing himself to touched again, but Crowley merely stooped to pick his glasses up off the ground, polishing them on the hem of his shirt. He went to put them on, then paused, looking at Aziraphale with wide, searching eyes.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” he asked again, his voice quiet.

“Perfectly fine.” Aziraphale gave him a brittle smile. “Just need a bit of time to myself.” Nevermind the fact that Crowley had been home for all of five minutes before Aziraphale had lashed out at him like some sort of spooked animal, and when he’d just made them dinner reservations no less.

“Right then.” Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets, seeming to take another step towards the angel and then rethink it. “Back for dinner then?”

“Of course my love.”

“Right.” he said again. He grabbed his keys off the small breakfast nook table and made for the stairs, pausing for a moment at the top. “I love you.” It was almost a question.

“I love you too, my dear.”  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Crowley had barely made it back to the Bentley before the gears in his head were turning, mind racing with thoughts of what he could have possibly done wrong. It was clearly something egregious, that much was obvious, but he just couldn’t think what. The angel had been fine only moments before, hadn’t he? He let out a frustrated sigh as he slipped into the drivers seat, wishing that he had any sort of clue as to what had changed.

After sliding the keys into the ignition (which was unnecessary, but it made him feel slightly more human), he fished around in his pocket for his cell phone, breathing a small sigh of relief when he realized he had a few hours before he needed to be back for their dinner. If the angel still wanted to go, anyway. He shook his head, trying to banish the thought, and turned instead to the issue of where exactly he was going to go. He hadn’t really been thinking about it when he had offered to leave, and now it dawned on him that there wasn’t really anywhere he could drive to distract himself. On the contrary, he knew that just about everywhere would remind him of Aziraphale. One of the drawbacks of being with someone for so long he supposed, lots of time to visit every bar in central London.

As a last ditch, he went to his contacts, of which there were few. Aziraphale had argued the point of him even needing a mobile phone in the first place, as they certainly didn’t need them to communicate, but Crowley had pointed out that if either of their respective sides had taken them, they might need another way of getting in touch. Regardless, he was grateful for the phone now, as he clicked through a few screens and found a rarely contact: Anathema.  
True, he and her hadn’t talked much personally since the events with Satan and the children, but he more than once had found himself forced to say hello in passing as her and Aziraphale chatted on the phone, about books and the weather and whatever other nonsense the angel always seemed please to talk to humans about. He didn’t know her as well as he would’ve liked to given the circumstances, but she was one of the more clever humans he’d ever met, and it wasn’t as if he had many other friends to chat with about his relationship strife. 

Book girl, he thought with a small smile, throwing his phone into the passenger seat and shifting the car into drive. That’s what he would do, he decided. Drive up to Tadfield, claim he was “checking in” on the girl and her boyfriend, squirrel or something his name had been, and then maybe, if the moment presented itself, ask her advice. Either way, it got him away from the house long enough for Aziraphale to collect himself, and gave him a lengthy enough drive to clear his head. And besides, she was a witch after all, it could be quite an interesting house call. 

Speaking of, he remembered that humans usually called before they showed up unannounced at each other’s houses. He grabbed his phone and punched in her number, only half looking at the crowded city street in front of him. It rang for a moment, then he heard a small click.

“Device Pulsifier residence.” answered a rather congested sounding male voice that Crowley could only assume was the husband.

“Yeah, hi, it’s Crowley.” he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Oh! From the airfield!” he sounded pleased, which meant this was already going better than Crowley had expected.

“Very same. Listen, are you and Anathema… terribly busy at the moment?” He winced slightly, not really knowing how to proceed.

“I don’t think so, why? Are you in town?”

“Yeah, bit of an errand, thought I might make a house call.”

“Well we have some of the children from the village coming ‘round for tea, but nothing besides that, you don’t mind children do you?”

“No, don’t suppose I do.” he smiled to himself. He supposed there was no way this boy could’ve known about the whole chat he and Aziraphale had had with Adam. Perhaps that was for the best.

“Right, see you in a bit then?” Newt asked.

“Yep!” Crowley hung up the phone and jammed it in his pocket this time, already feeling better. There was something about the humans in this village that was oddly comforting. Something about the domesticity of it all, he guessed. Not to mention that one doesn’t get to visit the antichrist every day.

He drove on, until the tiny city roads stretched out and became long winding tracks, and he could see fields of sheep either side of him. Finally beginning to breathe easier, he cranked up the radio, letting the familiar vocals wash over him, and smiled slightly as the Welcome to Tadfield sign appeared on the road in front of him.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It took a few moments after Crowley left for Aziraphale to make his way to the couch, the scones long forgotten. He could hear the traffic thrumming outside, and then a small screech which he had to assume was the Bentley pealing down the street. He felt inexplicably lonely, which was odd, juxtaposed with the feeling of the tension finally draining from his shoulders. He let himself sink into the couch, taking deep breaths to steady himself. He knew Crowley was probably going to a bar of some sort to give them both some much needed time away from each other, but that didn’t stop the guilt creeping up his spine, assuring him that he’d overreacted.

It was simply that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling of Hastur and the other demon’s hands wrapped around him, roughly dragging him away from Crowley, from the park, and down into Hell. He had thought he was safe, but even then he couldn’t be sure. They’d had no idea whether the plan would work or not. They had been willing to stake everything on each other.

In the same train of thought were memories of Gabriel and Sandalphon, their hands digging into his shoulder as they left his bookshop, him stuttering out some apology about the presence of evil. How the archangels always had smiles just this side of too bright, concealing their tendency for violence almost as well as they hid their contempt for him. There was no warmth among them, no matter how much Gabriel spoke of comradery and brotherhood.  
It occurred to him that except for his jaunt in Hell, none of the violence he’d experienced in all of his time had been from demon’s. It had been Gabriel who had left bruises on his arm. It had been Uriel who had slammed him against the outside wall of his bookshop. And yet, even with that knowledge, he couldn’t shake the fear that any sort of touch, even from Crowley, would be some sort of trick or trap, designed to lure him in and hurt him. The demon loved him, and he knew that, but even so he couldn’t do this for him.

He knew that Crowley would blame himself. He just hoped that when he got back he would be able to convince him otherwise. This was his own problem, wasn’t it? It was hardly Crowley’s fault that he had been conditioned to fear being too close to others in such a fashion. The only question that occurred to him was whether or not, now that were… whatever this was, Crowley would be able to overlook it. Part of him knew the demon would love him anyway. Another part wasn’t so sure.  
Rubbing his temples, he closed his eyes, feeling like he could actually sleep for the first time in months. Perhaps that was what he needed. He thought for a moment, then decided that was exactly what he would do. He would rest, and think of a way to apologize, and then he would make sure that this dinner made up for everything.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When Crowley pulled up to the small blue cottage, he was slightly amused to find that the yard was already very much occupied with several children. They appeared to be playing some sort of sword-fighting game, which the girl of the group was clearly winning at. She’d apparently retained some of her skills from her fight with The Horsemen. Crowley almost felt sorry for the boy she was against, who had fallen to the ground and was patiently waiting for her to finish attacking him.  
He pulled into the driveway and jumped out of the car without grabbing the keys, striding past the four children. Adam was sitting on the porch looking on at the swordfight, seemingly unimpressed. He looked up when Crowley entered the gate, staring inquisitively.

“It’s you!” he called.

“Hello to you too.” Crowley said with a small wave, making his way to the porch. The fighting had ceased, all of the children now gathering to stare at him.

“I remember you.” the girl piped up. “Aren’t you the one who stopped time at the airfield?”

“Had a bit of help I’m afraid.” Crowley replied, smirking as Adam nodded sagely.

“Can you really stop time?” another one of the boys asked loudly.

“Shut up Brian, of course he can.” Adam snapped. 

“I believe it.” the girl spoke up again. “Otherwise how would they have stopped that red guy coming out of the ground?”

“That’s stupid Pepper, no one can actually stop time.” the one boy who hadn’t spoken yet seemed quite indignant.

“Adam says he did!” she snapped back.

“What if he’s lying?”

“I’m not!” Adam protested. “If I said that him and the other weird one in the bow tie can stop time then it’s true.”

“Prove it.” the small boy with glasses looked at Crowley expectantly. 

“Sorry?” he asked, stifling a smirk.

“Prove you can stop it.” Pepper crossed her arms.

“How do you know I haven’t already?” Crowley cocked an eyebrow, watching as the children shared glances among themselves.

“What do you mean?” Adam seemed genuinely interested, and slightly less accusatory than the other three.

“Well if I’d stopped time, you wouldn’t know about it, now would you?” Crowley explained.

“He’s right.” Brian conceded, and Adam nodded along.

“Crowley?” Thankfully, Anathema had appeared in the doorway, looking slightly confused and then very exasperated as she surveyed all of the children blocking the entrance. “Children, can you let him in please?”

Reluctantly, the children parted, Pepper still looking at Crowley as if he was hiding something from her. He gave a nod to Adam, who nodded back as he stepped inside the house.

“Newt? Crowley’s here!” Anathema called as she attempted to clear some of her spell materials from the kitchen table. So that’s what his name was. Crowley was glad she’d said so, because a moment later Newt emerged from the back door, carrying an armful of gardening supplies.

“Hi Crowley.” he smiled. “Welcome to the cottage, I suppose.”

“Thanks.” Crowley gave a small smile of his own in return and took a moment to actually look around the small cottage. It was quaint, but very homey, and at the moment smelled of something slightly burned.

“You cooking?” he asked.

“Trying to, anyway.” Anathema sighed. “Thought I could make cookies for the kids, but they didn’t exactly turn out.” As if to emphasize her point, she turned on the sink, letting a small amount of smoke rise from the dishes.

“Been there.” Crowley said, sliding into a chair and fighting the urge to kick his feet up on the table like he would back home with Aziraphale. He jumped slightly as he heard something, or from the sound of it several somethings, crashing to the ground in the other room, followed by Newt swearing softly.

“You alright?” Anathema called.

“Bloody kids moved the end table again.” he called back, though there was no real intention behind it. Anathema rolled her eyes affectionately.

“So what brings you, Crowley?” she asked, rummaging through the fridge. “Just checking in?”

“Mostly, yeah, wanted to see how you and the husband were doing after… everything.”

Anathema laughed, and Crowley perked up as she realized that what she had been looking for was a bottle of wine. And not a terribly inexpensive one from the looks of it. She set it and two glasses down on the table, sliding into the chair opposite him and pouring her own.

“In some ways it’s better than before.” she answered truthfully. “I mean, I’ve met Newt, which I knew I would, but I guess even Agnes couldn’t predict everything.”

“Oh?”

“She never said we we’re going to start dating.” she explained. “Just that we… anyway. It’s been really nice. And of course now we have the kids all the time, they seem to like us.”

“Can’t say the same about me.” he smirked.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” She laughed. “There’s really no excuse for them.”

She pushed the bottle across the table to him, which he gratefully took, filling his glass as high as he could and then drinking almost half of it in one go.

“So how are you and Aziraphale?” she took a sip from her own wine. “Did he not want to come down?”

“Nah, he’s busy.” he lied, Anathema’s raised eyebrow not lost on him. “Bit of a tiff, as it were.”

“What about?” her gaze wasn’t judgmental, simply curious.

“We’ve been a bit off since all of this happened, honestly.” he sighed. “I mean I’ve known the bastard for 6000 years, but since we averted this whole Apocalypse thing it’s like I don’t know anything.” He winced slightly as he said it, surprised how easily he’d allowed himself to tell the truth. Witch magic, he supposed.

“You mean things he’s lied to you about?”

“No!” It came out faster than he’d meant it to. “No, not exactly, it’s just that we never really talk about… anything very personal. Never have had to really, but now I think that I’ve…” he hesitated a moment. “I’ve upset him somehow.” Crowley rubbed his temples, not even wanting to really think about it. Anathema’s gaze softened as she looked at him, and for the moment he was glad he still had his glasses on.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know what I said.” he sighed. “I didn’t even say anything really, we were chatting, and then I left, and when I came back I tried to put my arms around him and… well I don’t really know what happened.”

“Did he say he was upset?”

“No, never does. He shoved me though.”

“Shoved you?” Anathema asked, incredulous. “Aziraphale?”

“Not hard.” Crowley clarified quickly, shifting in his seat. “I startled him, I came up from behind.”

“So he was scared.”

“I think so.” Crowley tried to ignore the pang in his chest at the thought of the angel being scared of him.

“Do you know why?” Anathema seemed almost hesitant to ask.

“He didn’t know I was going to touch him.” he said again. “It’s my fault though, I should’ve asked, stupid really. I’ve always gone too fast for him.” he smiled ruefully.

“Hey.” Anathema placed her hand on the table sharply. “You know that’s not how he feels.”

“I think he made it clear enough he doesn’t want me anywhere near him.” he said, only half believing it.

“Did he actually say that?” she raised her eyebrow again.

“He said that he thought we should be apart for a while.” 

“How long is a while?” she asked. Crowley laughed slightly, looking at the table.

“I have to be home for dinner tonight.”

“So not exactly a divorce then?”

“Point taken.” he smirked. “I just wish I knew what I did. I mean, he’s let me touch him before, I just thought that maybe things would be different now. Now that we’ve… moved in together, I suppose.”

“Crowley…” she hesitated a moment, as if she was struggling to find her words. “Sometimes we can’t change things about ourselves. Even for people we love.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean that what ever you did, you didn’t mean to hurt him. And he knows that.” She was looking earnestly at him, though he still didn’t meet her eyes. “You know he does.”

“I know.”

“Me and Newt have had things like that.” she said, softer.

“Really?”

“Believe it or not having a prophesized relationship where your first date is chasing down a bunch of kids and averting the Apocalypse doesn’t always get things off on the right foot.”

“Oh no?”

“No.” Anathema chuckled. “I wouldn’t change him, but no.”

“So what do I do?” Crowley finally looked her in the eyes.

“You talk to him.”

“Right.” Crowley sighed deeply, leaning back and stretching his legs.

“It sucks.” she sighed, sensing his unease. “But it’s the only way to find out what happened.”

“You really think so?”

“I know. Go talk to your angel, Crowley.” she laughed, then looked at him expectantly. “Seriously, now.”

“Now?”

“Yes, go, don’t wait until the last minute.” she waved her hands at him as if shooing him out. Crowley laughed, standing and knocking back the rest of his wine.

“Take it.” Anathema smiled, pushing the bottle across the table.

“Really?”

“I saw you pull up to the house, it can’t make your driving any worse.”

“I take offense to that.” he smirked, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig as he headed for the door. “But thanks. For everything, not just the drink.”

“No worries.” She smiled. “And Crowley?” The demon paused. “Say hi to Aziraphale for me.”  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Aziraphale sighed as he tried on the third of a pile of coat jackets, trying to decide what would be best for the restaurant. It had dawned on him recently that he hadn’t even asked Crowley where they were going, let alone what he should wear. Not that the demon ever really disagreed with anything, but he liked to have his opinion anyway. He shrugged the jacket off his shoulders, disgruntled, as he heard the bell ring in the front of the shop.

He’s home early, he thought to himself, straightening up slightly. Part of him hoped that it wasn’t the demon at all, just an overly ambitious customer, because though he’d agonized over it he still didn’t have the slightest idea what he was going to say when Crowley walked in the door. He didn’t have long to think about before the demon was making his way up the stairs, the telltale jingle of his keys marking his arrival.

“Angel?” he called, almost tentative. Aziraphale took a deep breath before stepping back out into the living room.

“Right here, dear.” he said, relieved as he realized that Crowley seemed at the very least slightly more relaxed than he’d been when he left. “Where’ve you been?”

“I actually… went to Anathema’s.” Crowley replied.

“Anathema’s?” Aziraphale couldn’t help the surprise that crept into his voice.

“Yeah, I thought she might have some advice.” He jammed his hands into his pockets, clearly working up the courage to say something.

It wasn’t lost on Aziraphale that he was standing much farther away then he normally would, leaving almost the entire room between them. He also hadn’t made any move to sit down, which was also unusual. On any other the angel could’ve chalked it up to the demon being a bit distracted with work or something else, but this was different. Now the air between them was tense, heavy with things neither of them had said.

“Angel, can we sit down?” Crowley suddenly asked, still looking oddly out of place in the room.

“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale replied, already making his way towards the couch. Perhaps sitting would make things less awkward. Crowley took care to sit as far from him as possible on the couch, forgoing his usual routine of sprawling his long, slender limbs all over it. The silence was deafening, but Aziraphale didn’t dare break, as Crowley still seemed to be wrestling with himself.

“I’m sorry.” he finally blurted out, his eyes wide behind his glasses. Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to pause, for this was certainly not what he’d expected.

“Whatever for?” he asked.

“For scaring you!” Crowley insisted. “For not asking before… it was stupid, angel, I never thought to ask, I just assumed that you were fine with it, I thought if-“

“Crowley?” Aziraphale cut him off. “Why in Heaven are you apologizing to me?”

“Because I never asked!” he seemed to be growing more frustrated with himself the more he talked, his sibilant consonants exaggerated. “Things are different now, and I fucked up, and I’m sorry.”

“Never asked what?” Aziraphale had to be absolutely sure they were talking about the same thing.

“I never asked if I could touch you.” the demon finally managed. “I assumed you wanted it, but obviously you don’t, which is fine.” Crowley looked him in the eye as if to emphasize his point. “I just want you to be happy, angel.”

Aziraphale was once again lost for words. He had agonized and debated and rehearsed a scenario in which Crowley came home hurt and angry and the angel apologized to him and vowed to do better, promised to do more to work past this. Instead, Crowley, the one being who loved more than anything without question, in this moment and always, had come home and immediately apologized to him. And now he was sitting on the edge of the sofa, as far as he could get away from the angel to make him feel more comfortable, his golden eyes searching for some sort of acceptance with so much earnest that Aziraphale thought his heart might break.

“Oh, Crowley.” he breathed, letting one of his hands come to rest on the sofa between them. “You have no idea how much I want it.”

“What?” the demon seemed genuinely stunned.

“I want you to touch me, Crowley.” Aziraphale repeated. “I want to hold hands, and to kiss you, and to share the same bed. Of course I want that.”

“Then why-“

“Because you’re the first being that’s ever loved me, Crowley.” Aziraphale could feel a small blush rising to his cheeks despite himself. “It’s a rather new feeling.”

“I know, angel.” Crowley said softly.

“But sometimes, when you touch me, all I can feel is… them.” Aziraphale explained.

“Who?”

“The demons that dragged me away from you that day.” he sighed. “The angels that tried to keep me away from you for so long. Gabriel, Sandalphon, all of them. And it makes it feel… wrong.”

“Because I’m a demon?” the question was laced with hurt.

“No my love, not at all.” Aziraphale said quickly. “Because until a few weeks ago, that was the only touch I knew. And I fear it still might be.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you touch me, I want it to be you, Crowley. I don’t want it to feel like anyone else, anyone who’s tried to hurt me, hurt us. We deserve that.” He took a deep breath. “Our sides have already taken so much away from us. I refuse to let them take that too.” He waited anxiously for Crowley to answer, hoping that he’d somehow found the right words to make him understand.

“I want that too.” The demon seemed to let out a breath he’d been holding. “You’re the first idiot who’s ever loved me, angel, no way am I mucking that up over something as small as this.”

“Really?” the angel was still slightly nervous. “I know it’s silly, but if you can-“

“I’ve had to wait 6000 years to be able to tell you that I love you.” Crowley said, finally sliding his glasses off. “I’m not ever going to stop, not if I have to wait to touch you for another 6000. Just tell me when you’re ready, and I will be too.”

Aziraphale was positively beaming, his hands clasped together in his lap. He should’ve known that Crowley would be kind and loving and thoughtful, just like he always was. He truly was the worst demon the angel had ever met.

After a moment, Crowley returned the smile with a smirk of his own, shaking his head slightly. His hand was resting on the sofa now too, and before he could stop himself, the angel had reached over to wrap it in his own, ever so gently. Crowley tensed, looking at him with wide eyes for a moment, but the angel’s expression didn’t change. He simply gave his hand a small squeeze as he spoke.

“Crowley?”

“Yes, angel?”

“I love you too.”  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

By the time they had finished their meal that night, Crowley could scarcely remember what they’d eaten. He could’ve blamed it on the alcohol in his system (of which there was more than a bit), or on the distraction of the other people, but both demon and angel knew what it really was. Just as they had for 6000 years, they lost themselves in each other, chatting and laughing until the restaurant was very near closed.

Aziraphale cast a glance around as waiters began folding tablecloths and taking the last of the dishes, sighing as he realized how much he really didn’t want this dinner to be over. Crowley, however, was all smiles, his eyes bright behind his shades as he picked up his glass.

“How about a toast, angel?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. Aziraphale was struck, not for the first time that night, by just how lucky he was.

“I think a toast is in order, yes.” he raised his glass as well, beaming. “To another lovely night-“

“To us.” Crowley interrupted, giving a small wink as he clinked his glass with Aziraphale’s. The angel laughed, and for the second time that evening, took his demon’s hand in his own.

“Of course, my love. To us.”

**Author's Note:**

> So that's it! Bit of angst, bit of fluff, bit of me pining for Anathema Device, y'know, the usual. As always, comments and kudos are appreciated!  
> \- Jo


End file.
